Reminds me of an axiom circulating online this week: Things happen for a reason; and sometimes the
reason is that you’re stupid and make bad decisions.

Ahhh! That helped a little.

My goal each week is to give you a laugh Dear Reader, but this week’s Supreme
Court decision just sticks in the marrow of my funny bone. It felt good to vent. Glad to have it out of my system, for the
moment, at least.

I’m with “Notorious RBG” as Justice Ginsburg is now being affectionately
called. I wanna dig out a tie-dyed
t-shirt, paint my face and carry a torch.
I wanna sit in. “Hell no! We won’t go!”

OK, wrong slogan.

Breathe. Breathe.

What the hell are they thinking??
Don’t they have a big picture point of view?! Of all people the Supreme Court should be
able to process the implications of their decisions. Can’t they see that allowing Hobby Lobby et
al to cherry-pick the parts of healthcare LAW they want to abide by sets a bit
of a precedence! Hello?!

You know, I don’t like it that as part of that same “mandated” healthcare
package my tax monies pay for Viagra.

This is a deeply held belief of mine – a when-it’s-over-it’s-over philosophy
that I believe men should accept. I’ve
lived my life accordingly mostly because that issue doesn’t affect me.

So it just naturally follows that I would not fund distribution of such a
drug. Therefore, next April, I’m going to
draw a red line on my Form 1040 and reduce my tax burden accordingly. That’ll work.

All right, Carolyn. Mellow! Mellow!

You know what? My blood pressure is
up and I want to eat a bag of fun-sized Snickers.

But I can let this go.

Let’s talk about something else.
Something completely different...

I woke up again this morning with parrot tongue. This is a bad sign because I’m being told
that someone in this house is snoring.

In case you’re unaware, parrot tongue is a well-documented syndrome whereby
an otherwise cultured and genteel person tenderly rests her head on her memory
foam pillow and falls asleep instantly, drawing her life’s breath orally.

That is to say she closes her eyes and steps off the precipice into the
darkest depths of guilt-free slumber post haste. Sheep uncounted. Lips parted just so.

When she wakes, some seven stress-free hours later, her tongue is the tongue
of a Mojave Gila monster; her house pets cower in the bedroom corners and her
husband hovers gleefully with his iPhone recording ready to play.

“Ha ha ha!” says he. “Listen to
yourself, Honey! You could peel the
paint off the walls! Tee hee hee! Wait until our son hears this!”

First of all let me just say that, squirrel mouth aside, I do not accept
that the racket on that recording came from me.
My assertion is that my husband accumulated those sound effects over
time in revenge for that innocent prank I played long ago when I dipped his
hand in warm water.

No – those sounds came from somewhere else.
Something else. Just recently,
for example, he had to pry bent nails from warped boards on our deck. He could easily have had his recorder in his
tool belt.

Our neighbor’s dog snarls at the slightest provocation. We visited Yellowstone when the buffalo were
feeling frisky. Our house is haunted!

I don’t know! It wasn’t me, I tell
ya!

All right. Let’s say Spouse A is
possessed by the devil. She cannot
control the proclamations of the Dark One!
He has a lot on his mind and the volume set on 10.

Spouse B may be laughing but he’s looking frazzled.

This can’t be healthy physically, mentally or matrimonially! Medical science surely has some relief.